Going Forth
by Midnight Raine
Summary: After much thought and a couple of events, Fred realizes what has to be done. Last relevant book is "Chamber"


"Going Forth"  
PG  
Dramatis Personae: Fred Weasley, Weasley Family  
Category: Angst/General  
Spoilers: Gap filler, the last relevant book is "Chamber of Secrets"  
Disclaimer: I own nada. Nothing. Zip. Shoo! *hits lawyer with broom*  
Mindless ramblings: Hey, my first solo foray into the land of Harry Potter fic! You may notice I have an unhealthy obsession with Fred. That's my problem and I don't want to be cured. I'm a veteran ER fic writer (not much posted on ff.net, since I'm revising a lot), where everything is drama and angst and romance. That's what I was raised on, and boy does it show.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
I wish we had money.  
  
Not so much we had to, you know, add an extra floor to stash all of our loot. Our house is lopsided as is. Just enough so that we could say we were getting along fine and mean it.  
  
Things have been harder since... Oh God, this seems so comical... See, Ron and his friend crashed a flying car into a tree. There, I said it. The car was supposed to be invisible... There I go again... But something went wrong and a bunch of Muggles noticed. We were fined 50 Galleons for keeping a flying car, plus the cost of the Tree Doctor. Yeah, Dad got what he had coming, but we're poorer then ever.  
  
Lucius Malfoy wanted Dad fired, but he just got Dad's pay cut.  
  
Of course, Dad tried to hide it. He sent an owl to Percy, but Percy was the only one of us he bothered to tell. I found the note on his bed. Never mind why I was in the Prefect's quarters in the first place; it was shocking.  
  
I must have read that note a thousand times until I felt ready to explode. I had to wring Malfoy's slimy little neck and I didn't care about being sent to Azakaban for murder.  
  
George came in looking for me.   
  
"What's that, love letter?" He laughed.  
  
And I hated him then.  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
There was a newspaper article about the whole flying car fiasco. Ron showed it to me, and all it did was rekindle my rage against Draco.   
  
We passed the little rat that day, going down to Defense Against the Dark Arts.   
  
George practically had to pull me off him. I know that if Draco were in his father's position he would have made the same decisions. That put him beyond mercy.  
  
George just glared, though. Didn't put a hex on the boy or anything.  
  
See, George doesn't look at things the same way I do. If anyone bothered to take us seriously, they'd figure out we're two different people. Ironically, George is the only one who knows this. I want my own personality back. I'm the one who takes charge, George is the one who waits but thinks everything over. I think that's why we're such good friends.  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
Ginny's dresses are too small. They squeeze her ribs. Her robes are too short, and you can see her ankles where she's wearing socks with patches on them. (Patches! Honestly, no one patches socks.) She's growing up tall and skinny and nothing fits. She's past due for another Weasley growth spurt.  
  
George and I, we can do with robes that are mouth eaten and faded. We can laugh it off. Ginny just gets upset. She comes home, or goes back to her dormitory, or wherever she is and she cries because her classmates are laughing at her. She doesn't deserve this. She's done nothing to deserve clothes halfway to rags. That should be *my* penance, not hers.  
  
I'm never there for her. She was afraid of the Chamber of Secrets. She started shaking at the word "chamber". I should have helped her. I should have stopped the problem before it started.  
  
Ginny never should have needed that diary.  
  
I stopped being brother and became monster. A monster and a failure. Me and George both. George is guilty, of course, but he's not going to do anything. I'll go along with what George does whether I like it or not because... because I need him there. Because I do a lot of stupid things and need moral support and a leg to stand on.  
  
I never meant to hurt Ginny. I wanted to lighten the mood, to thicken her skin. I think that's what our alibi was... I know I wasn't really thinking. Follow me? Yes? No? Doesn't matter...  
  
The point is Ginny needed a friend, and I was hiding behind statues pretending playing monster. I never wanted to give her nightmares. I hadn't thought, I couldn't imagine... And that's the problem.   
  
I knew it was wrong but couldn't stand up to George. He's a stronger version of myself. And he kicks. Hard.  
  
We were just humoring her. *I* was just humoring her. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. She turned to a diary because she had no one else, and look what happened.   
  
I can't hide behind "us" anymore. It was my fault for going through with it. Don't tell me otherwise.  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
Without humor my family'd go crazy. That's what George and I do, but it isn't enough.  
  
You feel like you're constantly being compared to Perfect Percy, Bill the Valiant and Charlie the Exceptionally Clever. If everyone else isn't sizing you up then you're doing it yourself. Mum will always coddle Ginny because she's the youngest and the only girl. She used to pity Ron because he didn't do anything special.  
  
Was that harsh? I apologize, but it's true. He's a great person and all, but he doesn't play a sport, he's not a genius, and he's not Head Boy Material. I do *not* want another prefect in the family. He's great with Wizard Chess, yeah, but about the only thing you can do with that is play in the park with old men who feed pigeons...   
  
Hostile pigeons. If you ever go for a picnic you have to keep your sandwhich close to your chest or they'll swoop down from the sky and take it.  
  
I know someday Ron will do something big and huge and amazing and blow everyone away. Something that will make everything George and I ever did look like child's play. Ron's already battled the Dark Lord and that deserves credit.  
  
George and I blow things up. That's what we're here for. We've got Quidditch, but when we graduate that won't mean much.  
  
We have a clock on the wall that tells us where different members of the family are. If they're traveling, at home, or in the hospital, you know, stuff like that.  
  
I swear to you "jail" was added after George and I became old enough to use a wand. No one from our family's ever set foot inside a police station.  
  
Is that what we're supposed to grow up to be? Is that some sort of a grim foretelling?   
  
When we were about 12, we took Ickle Ronnikins to a horror movie. Real gruesome stuff. Naturally, Ron was feeling a little anxious that night. We bewitched his boxers and made them glow in the dark. He wasn't afraid anymore, but we got a warning from the Ministry of Magic. It's still hidden in our sock drawer.  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
Every year we get a list of school supplies, and every year we get something Harry and Lee and everybody else doesn't.  
  
***If money is an issue, please send word back and we can work something out.  
  
~~Minerva McGonagall***  
  
She doesn't give out handwritten notes. She uses bewitched stamps; it's all done by magic. We're the only exception.  
  
I don't believe there's any line between charity and pity, and I learned that from my father.  
  
There are times when we'd have to live off peanut butter sandwiches and milk. (You can tell it's hard times when you can't even afford jelly).  
  
I can hear Mum and Dad talk in their bedroom if I really try. They sleep right below me.   
  
I know where we're going. It's back to the Peanut Butter diet.  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
(i try and try, but i can't save  
pennies, nickels, dollars slip away  
i've tried and tried, but i can't save  
the hole in my pocketbook has grown a ways  
there's a new wind blowing they say and it's gonna be a cold cold one  
brace yourselves my darlings  
cuz it won't bring anything much away  
but more dustbowl days)  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
You can't just make food appear out of nowhere --"Bippity boppity boo, here's your Porterhouse, sir"--- it doesn't work like that. If it did, there'd be an instant end to world hunger. You can use magic to help prepare your food, you can use a Summoning charm to summon a burger from the grill to the table, but you can't rearrange a couple of air molecules and create a perfect Souffle.  
  
If we don't have enough money for food, Ron won't be getting a new wand any time soon. Yesterday the wretched thing shot a Jelly-Legs hex at me for no reason. We didn't even touch the thing; there was a poof and a flash and then George was on the floor having fits. One day it will explode and kill us all. It's not a thing any self-respecting family would have in their house.  
  
Percy got a new owl whether we could afford it or not. So what if he's a prefect, is he getting paid? Besides, he's got no friends to owl.  
  
I wonder how much money we could save if Percy didn't have to buy badge polish every other week.  
  
I've come to the conclusion it's best if we chop Percy into tiny little pieces, throw him in a piranha-infested lake, and divide up his new things amongst the remaining Weasleys.  
  
No. That's cruel. There are more practical things to be done.  
  
I'll leave. I'll get a job somewhere. I'm 15, but I don't look it. If anyone asks, I'm 18. Lying is old hat to me now. One less mouth to feed, one less person to buy clothes for... I can send the extra money I make home to Mum and Dad.  
  
Hogwarts costs a lot. It's the best school in England, of course it does. It's a good thing one less Weasley will be going this year.  
  
Mum's grown fond of Harry. He can have my room. He just can't touch my things.  
  
You have no idea how long I've been contemplating this. Every year when we go to Hogwarts, I look at the train schedule. I know that if I leave on Monday they have a train that goes to York at 6 AM. Another one leaves for Wales at 3 AM on Saturday. I don't have Muggle Money, but there's a Wizarding Currency Exchange at the station on Platform 7 and a half.  
  
I know it's not what you'd call a dream, but it's something that has to be done.   
  
They'll mourn for me at first; they may never come around. But it's for the best. I know it's for the best.  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
The end... for now.  
Lyrics used were an exert from "Dustbowl Days" by 10,000 Maniacs.  
So? What'd ya think? I tried to keep it in character. Really, really hard. Maybe I'll add more, but it could be after a long hiatus. I'm not entirely sure where I want this to go yet. (Help! I'll love you forever if you do!)  
Comments, ideas, and criticism are craved. Write a review! And if you want it to be urgent (or just want to chat) email/IM me at nightshade320@aol.com  
  
Meantime, check out my site:  
http://www.geocities.com/nightshade320/index.html  
Thanks to Elizabeth and Crystal for beta-ing and putting up with my constant bragging about the hot guys at "Oklahoma!" rehersals. And Nick, of course, for putting up with me never bringing the rough draft. 


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